


Real in its consequences

by anamia



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hypochondria, experiments in sadfic, taking an inherently ridiculous idea and playing as straight as possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1806610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamia/pseuds/anamia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I then returned here, where I have been ever since, not daring to see how far the infection has spread and knowing that I shall be dead within the week.”</p><p>An experiment in sadficcing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real in its consequences

**Author's Note:**

> So tumblr user Oilan, partially in response to the reaction to her piece for Barricade Day, posited the notion that someone could write fic of Joly stubbing his toe and Bossuet being unable to help and people would still wail over it and consider it a terribly tragedy. I, naturally, took the challenge to heart and produced this fic, which proved that Oilan had been entirely correct.

Bossuet only became aware of the whole affair when he returned to Joly’s lodgings after spending a few days in the company of rather less reputable friends on the other side of Paris and found Joly writing his will. So intent was Joly on this task that he did not at first notice Bossuet’s arrival, giving Bossuet a few moments to observe him at work. He did not care for what he saw – Joly’s pen moved across the page in a halting, nearly hesitant fashion, and he sat hunched in on himself, pausing occasionally to put two fingers to his neck and feel his pulse.

“Jolllly?” Bossuet said, after a minute or so of this. “I’ve come home.”

Joly started, turning in his chair and bursting into a smile upon seeing Bossuet standing in the doorway. “How was the Place d’Enfer? Do its buildings still stand?”

“They still reach towards the heavens in glorious irony,” Bossuet assured him. “Though we tried our best to lead them astray. Such is the luck of a man without fortune. But tell me, does something trouble you? You sit as though someone has plucked your wings and offered you a feathered wig in their stead.”

Joly sighed at that and the smile slipped from his face. “Not my wings, but rather my feet,” he admitted. “Two days ago I had cause to grow furious at my instructors for their short-sighted refusal to accept new ideas and their abrupt dismissal of the advances of science. Both you and Combeferre were away, and you know that talk of scientific progress makes Grantaire tiresomely cynical. Bahorel advised me to take my frustrations out on the walls of the medical school, so as to forcefully open it enough to accept new things, but I lack the physical strength to put holes in walls and so I attempted to kick the door instead. Only, instead of doing anything to shake the building or its representatives, all I received was a sharp pain in the foot and the mocking laughter of two nearby gamins, who then demanded that I give them each coin enough for bread. I gave them everything I had and then returned here, where I have been ever since, not daring to see how far the infection has spread and knowing that I shall be dead within the week.”

His voice quavered slightly as he finished his story and he looked away, picking up his pen once more.

“Does it still hurt?” Bossuet wanted to know.

“No… yes… it is difficult to tell. You know the mind consorts with the flesh to create illusions of sensation at times, which is surely a further sign that the injury will be fatal.”

Bossuet crossed the room and, as Joly occupied the only easily accessible chair, knelt beside him and took his free hand. “You should have sent word,” he said. “I would have come to keep you company.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” Joly said. “I know you like to roam.”

“I would give up both the streets and the skies forever more if I were offered the choice between them and you,” Bossuet said firmly. “But come, shall we remove your boots and see whether Asclepius has smiled on you and chosen to give you more time with us?”

Joly shook his head. “I would finish this first,” he said, pointing with his pen to the document before him. “Before I am too far gone to lift my pen or compose my thoughts.”

“You know I would write it for you if it came to that,” Bossuet said. Then, “Before you gave your coin to the gamins, did you have the chance to buy bread of your own, or shall we be forced to march on the nearest bakery for some?”

“We have bread,” Joly said. “Though you should go meet with our friends – they’ll have news for you, I’m sure.”

“Won’t you come with me? The air might do you good.”

Joly shook his head and Bossuet suppressed a frown, turning it instead into as fond a smile as he could muster. “I’ll return soon with news and with better bread,” he promised. “Try not to expire before then – I would be distraught if you left before I had a chance to tell you of what Borel’s friends think of _Hernani_.”

“I will try not to die tonight,” Joly said, and Bossuet pressed his hand more tightly.

“Good man,” he said, and rose. “Look at it on the bright side – if you do die, then you won’t have to sit that wretched examination for anatomy in a month.” He left the room to the sound of Joly’s hesitant laughter.

(When he learned the reason for Joly’s absence, Grantaire roared with laughter and declared, “What use have we for the theatre when we have Joly to provide us with all the drama we could ever need?” Bossuet thought of the way Joly’s shoulders had hunched and the tremor in his voice and did not smile.)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic comes with [fixit art](http://fizzygingr.tumblr.com/post/89013251016/sometimes-his-presence-is-all-he-can-give-and) by tumblr user Fizzygingr, who is amazing, and, by popular request, a [fixit headcanon drabble](http://kingedmundsroyalmurder.tumblr.com/post/89037195252/right-okay-so-as-promised-here-is-the-bini-fixit) by me.


End file.
